Since deciding to toss out concerns over bro-code violations, unwilling to let that stand in the way of my happiness—and, more importantly, of Anna’s—I’d had no qualms with talking about her. So, when Kynan asked me how things were as we’d sat around a large table in some dive bar in Fayetteville drinking beers, I’d told him the truth. “Not good.”
This led into a group discussion between Ladd, Jackson, Bodie, Kynan, and me about what we do for a living and how it affects the ones we love. Bodie’s recently been in the thick of things, having his own brush with death as a POW on a Jameson mission. That was before I joined the company, but it didn’t stress his relationship with his wife, Rachel.
But that’s apples and oranges. Rachel is an agent with Jameson, and she has been on her own hair-raising missions. She’s built for the risk of danger and death because it’s part of her job and her passion.
Anna isn’t built that way.
Bottom line, as my gut was swimming with way too much beer and my head overwhelmed with choices that needed to be made between love and duty, I figured out what I needed to do with Anna.
When I’d sobered up the next day, it still seemed like a great solution Kynan had offered me.
When he got word the negotiations in Colombia were complete and the hostage exchange was a go, I didn’t have a single regret about declining the mission and returning to Pittsburgh to talk to Anna. Kynan ended up going with the men in my place, and I am pushing forward with settling my future happiness.
I have the Uber driver take me to Jameson, since it’s a Thursday and Anna should be in her office. It’s probably not appropriate to have the discussion we need to have in our place of employment, but fuck it.
This absolutely can’t wait.
I have the driver let me off at the entrance to the underground parking deck, then use my passcode generator to open the steel rolling gate, moving through the parking spaces to the entrance door. A quick eye scan to confirm my identity and I’m in, heading toward the freight elevator that will take me to the second floor.
When I alight, I immediately run into Corinne.
“Hey, stranger,” she says genially.
“Can’t talk,” I reply curtly but with a friendly smile. “On a mission to make sure true love wins the day.”
Corinne just blinks, mouth slightly agape, before she manages to mumble. “True love, huh?”
“Finally figured it out,” I admit to her with a cheerful grin.
“And that is?” she prompts.
“Anna was why I was spared.”
“That’s some pretty philosophical thinking.”
“But no less true,” I say, stepping around while waving goodbye.
And that’s when my eyes land on Anna. Sitting at her desk, head bent over her work. It’s not my imagination, there’s a morose look on her face. I’d be an egotistical bastard to think I’d put that expression there, but I know her. I think I did.
I put some speed in my step, reaching her door and knocking. Her face tips up, eyes looking blank before a slow smile breaks across her face.
Unsure why I’m here, but happy nonetheless. “Hey.”
“Hey back,” I murmur, stepping into her office and closing the door behind me. “I missed you.”
“And I missed you,” she replies, no ounce of hesitation in her voice. This woman who told me but a few days ago she couldn’t handle my lifestyle.
Doesn’t matter, though. If she needs me to give it up, I will.
I’ll do anything to keep her.
“Told you I needed to think,” I press on, wondering if I should keep my distance and take a seat or if I should move closer to her.
Because my first words knock the smile off her face and her eyes fill with wariness, I decide to move closer. I navigate through the two chairs, around her desk, and perch my butt on the corner of it. “The rest of the team headed down to Colombia. Kynan took my place.”
The wariness remains. A flush of guilt is added to it, making her cheeks turn rosy. It kills me she feels guilty that I didn’t go on that hostage exchange, even though I know deep in her gut she’s feeling all kinds of relieved I didn’t.
Reaching out, I touch her face with my palm. “Don’t feel bad about it.”
She shakes her head, almost dislodging my hand, but she immediately brings hers up to cover it, holding it close to her cheek. “I don’t want you to give up the things you love. I’m scared, yes, but I’ll find a way to deal. I want you to be happy, and part of that includes a dangerous job. We’ll make it work.”
Fuck, how I love this woman. I know she’s terrified, and she has every right to be. Her husband died doing the very same type of work I would be doing. How could I ever ask her to live with that type of constant fear?